Chapter 9 – The Price of a Crown

The velvet box hit the mahogany table with a sharp crack as Luca slammed it down.

“He was at the docks,” Luca growled, pacing across the foyer. His hands were clenched into tight fists. “Julian Thorne was standing right there in the shadows, and I didn’t see him.”

I touched the empty space on my chest where the heavy silver ring had rested just an hour ago.

A cold shudder ran down my spine.

Julian hadn’t just stolen the ring. He had placed it in a box and returned it to my home. It was a terrifying display of power. He was telling us that no matter how secure the Moretti mansion was, he could breach it effortlessly.

“He’s playing a game,” Michael said quietly, taking Ivy from my arms and setting her gently on the floor. “Ivy, sweetie, go find Mrs. Higgins in the kitchen. Ask her for some pancakes.”

Ivy nodded obediently, clutching her stuffed rabbit, and padded away down the hall.

Once the child was out of earshot, Michael turned back to us.

“Julian left the ring to prove a point,” Michael deduced, his eyes scanning the elegant printed card. “He wants you to bring it to New York yourself. If he took it, he’d just be another thief. If you wear it to the meeting, you legitimize his claim as your arranged husband.”

I stared at the antique silver crest resting against the red velvet.

“I’m not marrying him,” I said, my voice firm despite the fear fluttering in my stomach. I looked at Luca. “I’m marrying you.”

Luca stopped pacing.

He walked over to me, the anger melting from his dark eyes, replaced by an overwhelming wave of tenderness. He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“I won’t let him touch you, Emily,” Luca promised, his voice a low, rough murmur. “We leave for New York in three hours. But we aren’t going to his meeting. We’re going to City Hall. We’ll be married before the sun sets.”

My heart swelled.

This beautiful, powerful man was willing to risk an all-out syndicate war just to protect me.

“Luca, if we do that, the New York families will see it as an act of war,” I reminded him softly. “They expect the heir to unite the factions. If I marry an outsider—if I marry Chicago—they’ll tear the country apart.”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “Let them try.”

“There might be another way,” Michael interjected, leaning against the entryway table.

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small, brass key.

“When Mrs. Higgins tied up Carlo Romano’s men in the wine cellar,” Michael explained, tossing the key to Luca, “I searched the lead enforcer’s pockets. I found this.”

Luca caught the key, inspecting the intricate grooves.

“What does it open?” Luca asked.

“I don’t know,” Michael admitted. “But it has the Roman numeral ‘V’ stamped on the back. The Fifth Family. That’s the New York faction. Julian Thorne’s faction.”

I stepped closer, looking at the brass key.

“Carlo Romano’s men were working with Julian Thorne?” I asked, confused. “But Julian told us Carlo was a traitor.”

“Exactly,” Michael said, his eyes narrowing. “Julian set Carlo up to fail. Julian wanted Carlo to expose you in Chicago so that New York could swoop in and play the savior. It was orchestrated.”

Luca’s grip on the key tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“If we can find what this key opens,” Luca said slowly, “we might find the leverage we need to force Julian to back down.”

I looked at the key.

And then, my eyes darted to the heavy wool coat Luca had draped over my shoulders at the docks. I was still wearing it.

When I had reached into the pocket to grab Vanessa’s train ticket, I had felt something else. Something hard and metallic stitched into the lining of the coat.

“Luca,” I whispered, shrugging off the heavy coat. “Where did you get this coat?”

“It was my father’s,” Luca replied, confused. “He died ten years ago. It’s been sitting in the hall closet ever since.”

I ran my fingers along the inside hem of the heavy wool. Right near the bottom seam, there was a small, stiff square hidden beneath the fabric.

I grabbed a letter opener from the entryway table and carefully sliced the stitches.

I reached inside the lining and pulled out a small, leather-bound ledger.

The cover was stamped with the exact same Roman numeral ‘V’.

“My God,” Michael whispered, staring at the book.

Luca took the ledger from my hands. He flipped it open.

The pages were filled with columns of dates, names, and massive sums of money. But it wasn’t just numbers.

It was a record of blackmail.

“My father didn’t just run Chicago,” Luca read, his voice filled with shock. “He was keeping tabs on New York. This ledger details every corrupt deal, every stolen shipment, and every murder Julian Thorne’s father ordered to weaken the other families.”

I gasped. “If the other families see this… they’ll destroy the Thorne faction.”

“Julian’s claim to power relies entirely on the illusion that he is honorable,” Michael said, a fierce smile finally breaking across his face. “If we bring this ledger to the meeting, Julian won’t be able to demand a marriage. He’ll be begging for his life.”

Luca closed the book with a resounding snap.

He looked at me, a dangerous, thrilling light shining in his dark eyes.

“Get dressed, future Mrs. Moretti,” Luca said, a wicked smile curving his lips. “We have a wedding to crash.”

Two hours later, I stood in front of the massive gilded mirror in the master suite.

The wine-stained maid’s uniform was gone.

In its place, Mrs. Higgins had produced a stunning, midnight-blue velvet gown. It fit perfectly, sweeping the floor with quiet elegance. She had pinned my hair up with antique diamond clips, leaving a few soft curls to frame my face.

And resting against my collarbone, heavy and undeniable, was my grandmother’s silver signet ring, threaded onto a new, unbreakable platinum chain.

I didn’t look like Emily the housemaid anymore.

I looked like the heir to the most powerful underground empire in the world.

The bedroom door clicked open.

Luca walked in, wearing a sharp, tailored black tuxedo. He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching as he looked at me.

“You are breathtaking,” he whispered, walking up behind me and resting his hands on my waist.

I met his eyes in the mirror.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked softly.

“As long as you’re beside me, I’m ready for anything,” Luca replied, pressing a soft kiss to my bare shoulder.

We walked downstairs. Michael was waiting by the front door, holding a sleeping Ivy in his arms.

“Good luck,” Michael said softly, smiling at us. “Bring her back to me safely, Luca.”

“Always,” Luca promised.

We walked out to the waiting SUV, the engine purring quietly in the cold afternoon air.

We were headed to O’Hare. To New York. To face Julian Thorne.

But as Luca opened the car door for me, his phone buzzed violently in his tuxedo pocket.

He pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

His face went completely pale.

He looked at me, pure terror flashing in his eyes.

“Luca?” I asked, panic spiking in my chest. “What is it?”

Luca slowly turned the phone screen toward me.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

Attached was a live video feed.

It showed my mother, tied to a wooden chair in a dark, damp basement, a rag stuffed in her mouth.

And standing behind her, smiling politely at the camera, was Julian Thorne.

“The ledger for her life, Emily. See you soon.”